Coulda, Woulda, Shoulda
by Splitbeak
Summary: A series of several different ways Common Ground could have gone down. Each chapter is one way it could have happened. Sometimes character death, but not always.
1. Time for Mercy

**COULDA, WOULDA, SHOULDA**

**SUMMARY: ** A series of several different ways Common Ground could have gone down. Each chapter is one way it could have happened.

**WARNINGS:** Some chapters, though not all, will contain character death. I will warn you at the beginning of each chapter if it will.

**NOTE: ** I have no idea how many chapters this will actually be.

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of its characters.

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**1. Time for Mercy**

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**WARNINGS:** This chapter includes character death.

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The cry of pain resounded off the trees, ringing in their ears, pushing leg muscles to move them that much faster towards the source. The rescue team broke through the trees in time to see the Wraith leaning over their missing friend. Colonel Sheppard's face was twisted in agony as the Wraith gripped his chest.

McKay fumbled with the safety on his P-90, but before his fingers had more than brushed the trigger, Ronon was already letting loose a frightening roar along with several rapid blasts from his pistol. The Wraith jerked in surprise, looking upon the rescue team with what could only be horror. "No…," he whispered before Ronon shot him again, sending his corpse reeling to the cold ground.

Sheppard twitched as the Wraith's head connected with his hip, but it was hardly noticeable under the tremors that rocked him. Ronon rushed over, brutally kicking the Wraith's head off his friend. "Sheppard?" he called quietly, resting his hand on the quivering shoulder.

Sheppard's eyes were squeezed shut in pain, and his mouth was twisted, not with its usual smirk, but a tight grimace. Heavy pants escaped his mouth and his arm started to jerk, trying to reach Ronon's. Ronon silently grasped his hand, trying to send his strength through the grip while wrestling with the fear of damaging the weakened appendage. For the first time in years, Ronon felt moisture well up in his eyes as he already began mourning the end of a great man.

McKay could only stare in horror at what was left of his friend. Sheppard was old. Not cool, grandpa old, but dead old. Gaul old. This was all his fault. Sheppard was going to die because he hadn't been there to save him. Never leave a man behind. Well, he hadn't; he had his friend back. Or what was left of him.

Doing his best to quell his horror, McKay staggered up beside Ronon, and the two carefully lifted Colonel Sheppard under the arms, settling him to his feet with an arm over each shoulder. Sheppard's legs trembled, his knees unable to lock, and his friends were quick to take his weight. McKay's hand, resting on Sheppard's shoulder blade, moved in slow circles over the chilled skin. McKay swallowed hard when he felt the thin bones protruding from beneath the weathered skin.

Sheppard was looking around dazed, taking a moment to slowly blink at each person standing with him in the clearing. His breath formed into mist as soon as it left his mouth, making McKay think of an eerie presence standing between Sheppard and the rest of them as though death had come for him already.

Sheppard's gaze settled on the Wraith just a foot away. He stared at it, his face an unreadable mask. Finally he looked away as harsh coughs raked his lungs, and his screwed his eyes shut once more.

"Let's get you home," Teyla offered, leading the way for her team back to the waiting puddle jumper. Ronon and McKay followed with Sheppard, leaving the four marines to follow in shocked silence.

* * *

"He's sleeping comfortably," Beckett assured us. We're all sitting around Colonel Sheppard's bed in the infirmary, listening to the steady beat of the heart monitor battle with the Darth Vader breathing coming from beneath the oxygen mask covering half his face.

"Is there anything… anyway we can…?" Elizabeth, normally an ace with words, was at a loss. All she wanted to do was hug John, to reassure herself that he was back safe and sound. Instead, she was fighting back her tears with every last ounce of her strength. Like John, she was a leader who needed to be strong and set an example. She would not break down when she needed to be strong for John and his team.

"No," Beckett said quietly. "When the Daedalus makes its next round, well… it's back to Earth for him." Carson shuddered, knowing that was the last thing the Colonel would want.

"Will he even make it back there? He looks like he could keel over any minute." The words sounded harsh, but no one doubted Rodney's concern for John. He sat on a stool next to the Colonel, and was actually holding the man's wrinkled hand carefully. "He's got to be what, a hundred?"

"Possibly even older," Carson grimaced. "There's no way to know for certain, Rodney. According to his medical history, people in his family don't usually reach this age as is, so there's no precedent to even guess how long we can expect him to live. I'm sorry; I wish I could give you better news."

Rodney tried to imagine an Atlantis without Sheppard. He'd be stuck in his stuffy lab with the monotony of his work, no crazy flyboy to randomly stop by and disrupt his routine. Going off world with some new military grunt ordering him around. No thank you.

"I'm going with him," he announced. Everyone turned to him in surprise. "I'm going back to Earth with him. I'm not leaving him to die alone." I couldn't save him, but I can do this for him.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but her voice fell silent before it could even speak under Rodney's gaze. Sensing his detemination, she nodded her assent. What else could she do?

The silence hung heavily in the air. Atlantis already felt as though John Sheppard had died. Elizabeth rubbed her arms roughly, shivering from the coldness that already seemed to permeate every corner of the city.

* * *

The infirmary lights were dim, but they still managed to sting his pathetic excuse for eyes as he lay staring at the ceiling. This was no way for a soldier to go, he thought bitterly. He was barely reaching forty years old, and already his skin was wrinkled, his bones were brittle, his arms too heavy to lift, his back sore and stiff, arthritis locking up every joint in his body, crippling his once agile fingers, and fogging up his perfect pilot's vision. Overnight he had become an invalid, and now he was being shipped off back to the hellhole he had come from, to die alone slowly, one long day at a time.

Well, not completely alone. Rodney was going with him. Rodney was trading in his future in Atlantis to watch John die. Rodney was giving up the life that John would kill and die for, had killed and was dying for. Because of guilt? Because he thought Sheppard blamed him?

Tears stung his eyes, and he turned his face into his pillow to hide his shame. Or he tried to, but the oxygen mask was in his way. One more insult to add to his many injuries. He couldn't even breathe properly on his own. The mask was his new lifetime companion – however long that was.

Why hadn't the damn Wraith just finished him? John wasn't an unreasonable man; he understood the logic of why the Wraith had stolen his life so that he would have the strength to fight for his own. Life sucks; it happens. But rather than finishing him, the Wraith had left him to linger, with just this little smidgen of breath left. Why? So that he could come back and relish the meal later? But then what was that look in his eyes the final time he'd started to feed? He'd looked so pained, so… apologetic! A Wraith!

In the end it didn't matter. Sleep tugged at his brain, and Sheppard was unable to hold onto his thoughts. Maybe this is just what he deserved for trusting a Wraith. Never turn your back on your enemy….

* * *

Carson looked at the sad figure lying in the bed in the darkened corner of the infirmary. Apparently Carson's estimate on the Colonel's lifespan had been too generous. Two nights ago, Colonel Sheppard's kidneys had given out. He was now on dialysis, and hooked up to even more machines than he had even been before. And he would be for the rest of his life.

He knew that Earth was the last place his friend wanted to be. The order to transport him back was cruel, especially considering what he had to look forward to, or rather, didn't. Maybe a month, six tops, in a sterile hospital room, bed-ridden and in pain. But more importantly to Colonel Sheppard, a whole galaxy away from anyone who cared about him, except Rodney. Rodney would be there to hold Sheppard's hand as he wallowed in hell, and they would both be smothered by the guilt until there was nothing left of either of them.

He couldn't watch his friend suffer anymore.

Walking over quietly, Carson gently shook Sheppard awake. Sheppard's hazel eyes opened slowly, blinking several times. In the end, he only had the strength to keep them open at half-mast. Beckett took a seat at his side, making sure he was in the Colonel's line of sight.

"Not really much of a way to go, is it lad?" Beckett asked, very carefully watching his patient's reactions. He had only done this twice before and it had torn him apart inside to do so. He had sworn an oath, after all. But if there was one person he could do this for, it was this man he considered both friend and family. Sheppard watched Beckett in confusion, lacking the strength to even ask the doctor what he meant.

Carson carefully took the loaded syringe out of his pocket and showed it to the Colonel. Sheppard looked between it and Carson, the question obvious in his eyes. "Morphine," Carson said levelly, determined to be strong for John. Sheppard's eyes narrowed before widening in understanding. Carson put the syringe back in his pocket, never taking his eyes off John.

"The Daedalus won't be here for a few days yet. Think about it carefully; you still have some time."

* * *

Rodney hunched over in the chair by Sheppard's side, rubbing his aching back muscles. His mind wandered to the research he had left in his lab, but he couldn't focus on the intricate details necessary to finish it. Not with all the hissing and beeping of the infirmary surrounding him.

Strangely Carson hadn't tried to usher him out, even after Sheppard had fallen asleep after briefly saying a few words to McKay. Why the man needed to waste his precious supply of air thanking McKay for being a good friend, he had no idea. Rodney was a terrible friend with a big mouth who was useless when it really counted, but it was nice to hear Sheppard say it. It was also nice to know he didn't blame anyone other than Kolya. Sheppard had smiled in grim satisfaction when McKay told him Teyla and Ronon were out hunting the bastard now, then had fallen asleep. Or passed out, whatever old people did. "Or faint," McKay grumbled at his unconscious friend, ignoring the way his voice hitched.

Rodney hid his face in his hands, trying to hold back the overwhelming emotions that were cascading into him from all sides. Why did it have to be Sheppard?

* * *

Carson carefully fitted the needle into the IV port, his face blank as he slowly depressed the plunger. When it was empty, he removed the needle and followed the path of the clear liquid as it disappeared into his friend.

John was watching him back. His eyes were bright for the first time since they'd brought him back. Clumsily he pushed at the mask, trying to dislodge it. Carson rushed over quickly to help him. Once it was off, John just continued looking at Carson until his eyes began to slip closed. Carson took up his hand, reassuring John that he was not alone. John blinked a few times, determined to see his last moments of the world. "Thank you," he whispered so quietly Carson almost didn't hear him.

When John's eyes closed for the last time, Carson lowered himself heavily into the chair, feeling his friend's grip slacken and tuning out the heart monitor's screaming. "I'm so sorry this was all I had to offer you, son."


	2. Slaughter

**2. Slaughter**

Listening to John Sheppard scream was shredding every last vestige of courage she had. The Wraith loomed over him, mercilessly, painfully sucking the very life out of her friend. The dark room on the screen emphasized the horror of the perverted show. Finally, with a wave of his hand, Kolya ordered the guards to pull the Wraith away. He stepped aside to reveal John collapsed in the chair, his head hanging down limply, panting and shaking, and sorely lacking in more than a few years.

"You have two hours." Kolya informed her coldly. Elizabeth had just enough time to see John lift his aged face and look into the camera before the feed was cut off. He had been firm in his command to not give into Kolya's demands. But after what he'd just been through, was that what he still wanted?

Elizabeth continued to ask herself that question over and over as she listened to the scum that was costing Sheppard his life prattle on with his insincere apologies and self-rightous refusal to concede to even the smallest amount of shame.

"Sounds like you're the traitor," Ronon was informing Ladon as they sat discussing the situation at the conference table.

"Does he have to be here?" Ladon asked her, snapping her attention away from her dark thoughts.

"The more you talk, the gladder I am that he is," she told him coldly. Ladon bit back what was undoubtedly a nasty retort before resuming the political niceties which he seemed to think was keeping him alive. Unfortunately for him, she was having trouble hearing them over the echo of John's screams in her head.

She wanted to turn Ladon over to Kolya. They deserved each other. When Elizabeth was a teenager her mother had always warned her never to air her dirty laundry in public. It was an old fashioned policy that had none-the-less served her well. The Genii however, were not only airing their laundry, they were throwing it in the Lanteans' faces and tangling them up in it. And John was the one suffering for it.

Ronon was all for handing Ladon over with a big red bow and making a lot of noise about it. But he didn't understand complex politics that came with protecting an entire city, rather than just a few people. She knew that giving into Kolya's demands was just inviting not only him, but others to do it all over again.

Then Carson goes and warns her that he doesn't know if John will survive another feeding.

Elizabeth retreated to her office to plan her next move. She absolutely forbid Ladon from leaving the city, not willing to let him run away from the mess he'd dragged them into. With a great effort, she pushed John's screams to the back of her mind where they became more of a dull whisper rather than a constant roar. She had to figure out how she was going to handle this. She couldn't give into Kolya's demands. She couldn't let Atlantean policy be so weak. She had to be firm and stay strong. John was a soldier; he could handle this. She had to believe that.

If only he'd stop screaming.

* * *

When the team returned from the planet empty handed, Elizabeth felt her heart drop and shatter. That planet had been their one and only hope. Kolya was due to call in five minutes, and she had no rescue plan.

John's team came to join her and Beckett, waiting for the call. Ladon was across the small room, wisely giving the fuming Lanteans a wide breadth. He was avoiding their pointed glares, which was hard to do when Ronon was studing him through a mask of sheer hatred. "We should turn him over," he voted again. Even Rodney was starting to look supportive.

"Colonel Sheppard specifically ordered us not to," Teyla said firmly. Like Dr. Weir and Colonel Sheppard, she was a leader and understood the sacrifices that had to be made for the greater good of all. That didn't mean she was any happier than the rest of them.

"We've ignored his orders before," Ronon grumbled.

Elizabeth just felt sick. Despite the pain that they all shared, in the end whatever happened could be laid only at her own feet. She was in charge, and therefore personally responsible for the outcome. She'd been so sure of her resolve at first. It was easy to be cold and stalwart when brandying words across a video feed. But watching and listening to her friend being tortured was puncturing holes in some illusions she'd had about her strength. She didn't know if she could sentence John to endless rounds of Kolya's tender mercies. Not for this weasel.

"Incoming wormhole," the gate technition announced.

"Receiving video transmition," Rodney said, standing over the tech's shoulder. His own shoulders were slumped with defeat, dread written into every line in his face. No one wanted to face what they all knew was coming. The only question was, how much would Kolya make John suffer for his petty plots this time?

"Dr. Weir," Kolya called jovially as his face appeared on the monitor. "Are you prepared to hand over Ladon Radim?"

Casting one last scathing look at Ladon as he inched closer, she shook her head at Kolya. "No," she bit out, sounding far more confident than she felt. With a regretful and possibly slightly surprised sigh, Kolya signalled the torture to commense. As the Wraith attacked Sheppard once more, screams once again filled the room. The gag did little to mute them. Sheppard's body writhed and bucked against the chair as he instinctually tried to fight back and was thwarted by the ropes that bound him to the chair.

Elizabeth tried to force herself to watch, to give John that much respect, but her eyes clamped shut and her head turned sharply away under own volition. Sheppard's agony seemed to go on forever. McKay was making choking sounds, while a loud thump echoed through out the room as Ronon tried to flip a table that was bolted into the floor, and had to settle for slamming a wall. He seethed in anger, turning on Elizabeth.

"Stop this!" he demanded. He turned to Ladon and grabbed him by the throat, violently toppling him to the ground. Ladon made a strangled sound of surprise and tried to bat Ronon's arm away, but the scheming scientist was little more than a fly to the furious giant that was Ronon. Ladon's head hit the metal flooring with a clang, and he was still. Ronon immediately started dragging the unconscious body towards the gate.

Torn, Elizabeth looked between the beserk Satedan and the psychotic Genii on the screen. God, she hated this galaxy and all the pain and violence it bestowed on its residents. Teyla and Rodney were running after Ronon to the gate, leaving Carson and Elizabeth fraught with indecision.

The room suddenly became definingly quiet as Sheppard's screams were cut off. The Wraith pulled away from Sheppard, and was shuffled away. "Dr. Weir?" Kolya cooed.

Glancing once more at the group arguing at the base of the gate, Elizabeth felt her own rage boil over the surface. Kolya had gone too far, and was going to reap what he deserved, to Hell with the consequences. "We'll send him. Just give us an address." Kolya beemed. John was clearly dazed, but she could tell he was trying to shake his head no at her. _I'm sorry, John,_ she thought, praying that he would one day forgive her. Kolya merrily held up a picture of a gate address with a small flourish, then cut the feed.

Elizabeth nodded at the tech to dial the address as a detail of marines joined the team at the gate, bringing gear for Rodney and Teyla. Walking down the stairs, she stood up besides Ronon, his shadow cast by the light of the gate towering over her. "I'm giving you free reign to end this," she said quietly and with steel. "Make him pay." Ronon gave a feral grin before tossing Ladon over his shoulder like a sack of grain. Elizabeth knew the bloodshed she had just endorced would haunt her for the rest of her life, but she comforted herself with knowing that she was saving John's life.

* * *

The ropes bit into his hands as the guards tied them even tighter. He was bound with his wrists behind his back, another rope binding his elbows together, plus another rope looping around his chest and upper arms. The gag was still in place, rubbing his sweat, tears, and drool into his face. Yeah, he was pretty well trusseled up. And they still had the nerve to beat him senseless before dragging his stunned carcass through the gate.

His limbs felt like lead and all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep. And throw up, but that could wait. Maybe. Upon nearly collapsing on the other side of the gate he began to worry that maybe it couldn't. Considering that the gag was still in place, that would be very bad. Swallowing hard, he managed to control the urge, but he was panting and sweating even harder for the effort.

Sheppard looked around, studying the foilage, trying to get an idea of where they were. So far, his list of possiblities still included just about every standard Pegasus Galaxy issue planet he'd ever heard of. Effin' Ancients, settling on planets that all looked like the same patch of woods. His head ached, his arms throbbed, his gut cramped, and his whole body just felt too heavy. Today had to be a new record for longest day of his life.

The gate activated again, and thirty Genii soldiers levelled their weapons at the open portal. Kolya positioned himself close behind Sheppard, holding a knife right up against his throat, nicking it slightly. McKay, Ronon, Teyla, and four marines stepped through the gate with Ladon Radim slung over Ronon's shoulder. Sheppard wanted to scream in frustration. _No, _he thought in denial. _Please, they didn't…. _Meeting Ronon's eyes, Sheppard silently begged him to not make this all for nothing.

Ronon ignored the Colonel's plea, none-too-gently depositing Ladon on the ground face first. "All right, he's here. Hand over Sheppard," Rodney demanded impatiently with a snap, a dark fire burning in his eyes.

Kolya just laughed. "Excellent. You see Dr. McKay, this didn't have to be that hard." Kolya nodded to one of his men who came forward and flipped Ladon onto his back, confirming his identity. "It's him," he assured Kolya as he dragged the body to rest at Kolya's feet.

Kolya smiled with delight before sending Sheppard sprawling towards his teammates. Teyla rushed forward to catch the Colonel before he could fall to the ground. She hurriedly passed him over to McKay, who half-dragged the still bound man away from the Genii, keeping their bodies low. "Now, I believe our business is concluded here," Kolya began, amused, before he was cut off with a boom.

The ground in front of Kolya exploded in a tidal wave of dirt as a carefully aimed drone tore up everything in a five foot radius of Kolya, including both him and Ladon. A puddle jumper materialized behind the team as it decloaked, revealing the source of the explosion. It landed after firing the first shot, and more marines ran out of the rear hatch P-90s already opening fire. McKay rushed Sheppard inside, not even looking at the confused man before settling him down on an empty bench.

Now out of danger, McKay untied the gag around Sheppard's mouth and began to fumble with the ropes. "McKay, care to tell me what the heck's going on?" Sheppard demanded.

The roar of the P-90s drowned out any response McKay could have given, but the racket didn't last for long. Glimpsing outside the jumper as McKay untied him, Sheppard could see Ronon and Teyla wielding not guns, but knives, leaving an impressive spray of red in their wake. To his astonishment, he realized that neither of them were going for killing shots; rather they were slicing and stabbing away at their opponent's arms, legs, chests (Ronon even went for a kneecap on some poor schmuck), They were taunting their prey, savagely hurting the Genii as they had been hurt through their friend.

Sheppard swallowed, unused to seeing this level of carnage from his friends. Worse, he hated feeling an answering brutallity in himself, longing to be out there with them, striking out in his own rage.

With a grunt of pain, his arms fell forward and he realized McKay had finally freed him. He started to sway when McKay's arms left his chest, and they were quickly replaced. "Easy Colonel," McKay comforted, sitting next to him. Sheppard was very glad that McKay was in the jumper with him, and not getting mixed up in the mess outside the jumper.

Finally there were no more Genii to maim and slowly kill, so the bloody rescue party returned to the jumper to assess the full damage done to their friend. Ronon thought Sheppard didn't look too bad, all things considering. He looked like he was in his late fifties, maybe even early sixties. He could still fight once Beckett let him out of the infirmary. His face was red and swollen in what would form a motley array of bruises over the next few days. Sheppard hadn't been beaten before they'd made the deal; Kolya must have done it after, even after they'd agreed to his terms. Ronon felt the urge to get out of the jumper and shred someone's heart out again.

Sheppard studied the bloody visage in front of him, unable to shake the feeling of an alternate reality. _Dear Diary…._ This morning had been a normal morning, and a regular mission. This afternoon had been Hell incarnate, one torture after the next. This evening he'd been convinced he was going to die a dry, whither husk in an enemy bunker at the hands of two separate enemies. Now tonight, he was safe with his team and going home. It was just too much. He felt his sides tremble as he sucked air in and out, small sounds escaping his lips. The gasping breaths became longer and louder until he realized he was laughing hysterically, unable to stop himself.

McKay gripped his shoulder tightly. Teyla was mumbling something soothing, but Sheppard wasn't listening. He closed his eyes, and the world became the sound of his unsettling laughter and the rumble of the jumper taking off. Sometime later, he felt a prick in his shoulder, and he eagerly gave himself up to the darkness. When he woke up, it would be tomorrow, and everything would be back to normal. But for now he could be crazy. Just this once.

* * *

_It's midterm month. Can you tell?_


End file.
